Within Plain Sight
by DarenDoe
Summary: Attending university is often seen as an important and pivotal - albeit fun - time in one's life. But for officer Seras Victoria, it is only a mission. An undercover one. Infiltrate, gain trust, gather intel. Why have students been disappearing into the night? Why is there such a large occult following? Who is Seras' "admirer" and why are they aiding her?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I neither own nor harbour any rights regarding the production or anything related to Hellsing. Damn, I wish I did, but, alas, I don't.

* * *

 **Chapter One: The Beginning to an End**

From life comes death, and from death comes life anew.

They ran. They ran with all the might their beings possessed; they ran with every last ounce of strength in them; they ran with adrenaline coursing through their veins and fear nipping at their ankles. They ran for death was chasing them.

The trees, only darkened silhouettes accentuated by the light casted upon the forest by the moon, passed by the two students in a blur as they sprinted through the night. The wind, already a light howl at the beginning of their deadly game of cat and mouse, had begun to crescendo into a mighty roar. The frigorific wind bite at their exposed skin, only adding to the two's suffering as they wildly tore through the woods.

Suddenly, one, the taller and less winded of the two, roughly pulled the other aside. He threw himself and the other behind a large, jagged rock and crouched down low to the ground which was thickly littered with leaves. The other did the same and panted out of both fear and need for air.

"My feet," said the smaller one between gasps for air. Her feet were bloodied, bruised, and turning purple from lack of footwear. The fall was un-expectantly cold that year, providing no mercy for the shoeless couple.

The young man hushed the other while taking her hands into his own, rubbing them together to help keep them warm.

The young woman's heart skipped a beat as, over the roar of the wind, they heard a twig snap. Then another. And another. All coming closer and closer to the rock.

"No, no, no, no. . ." the young woman trailed off, grasping onto the hands that tried to warm her own. "We're going to die, we're going to die-"

"Sally," the other cut in, his voice low as he slowly pulled the woman towards him. "You're not going to die. Not now. Get behin-"

"Not going to die, hm?" sung a voice just on the other side of the rock. The two froze, fear paralyzing them as the voice drew nearer, as if rounding the rock. "Who said that? Because," Sally bellowed out a bloodcurdling scream as a hand clamped upon her shoulder, prying her away from the young man. "They're a horrible liar!"

The young man lunged up at the bodiless voice that had snatched away his lover, pure fear and unbridled hatred at those who tormented him and Sally aiding him as he wildly reached into the darkness in search for her.

Hands, dozens upon dozens, grabbed at him, yanking him away from where Sally wailed in terror. They pinned him against the hard ground, easily holding in place as he swore and frantically thrashed against his restraints.

"Tsk, tsk. So disobedient, so rash," said the voice from before as a figure stepped into a moonbeam that shone upon the large rock's face. Out of the darkness came . . . a figure completely engulfed in shadows. It was as if, in the creature's complete monstrosity, God dammed this creature to be devoid of any physical manifestation and instead left him to be a shadowy husk of a man.

In a shadowy arm was the squirming form of Sally. Her hands, the fingertips purple from frostbite, tore and fought against the hand that was harshly clamped around her neck. She was suspended a foot off of the ground and kicked about her, trying her damn best to get her unholy captor to release her from their villainous clutches. She gagged and gasped as the young man watched as the light slowly drained out of her eyes and her acts of resistance became sluggish and lethargic.

"Oh, how poetic," mused Sally's captor as it only strengthen its crushing hold on the young woman's neck. The young man, with renewed strength at the sight of Sally's failing strength, flailed and fought against the hands in vain as tears, hot and salty, streamed down his cheeks.

"She's calling out to her lover in her last moments. Touching, truly. It's amazing how hot the fire of passion burns when one discovers love for the first time. And, oh," the captor sighed, disappointed tainting its velvety voice. "So sad that you two couldn't consummate the relationship. But, all the better for us. If absence only makes the heart grow fonder, then abstinence only makes the blood grow sweeter." The captor began to chuckle as it reared its shadowy head back, seemingly to smile up at the full moon before plunging his fangs into the virgin's neck.

With one last ounce of life, the young woman feebly reached for her lover before shedding a single tear as the unholy creature consumed her life.

With crimson flowing from its shadowy lips, the creature unceremoniously tossed aside the bloodied corpse before locking eyes with the struggling human who wept and wept upon the ground. Its eyes were red. A dark, unforgettable red. The same red that now bled from Sally's neck and dripped from the creature's fangs that glistened in the moonlight.

"I'm sorry. I'm rather selfish, you see. I must always take the delicacies for myself and leave the tainted- soiled, if you will- blood to my children- my fellow walkers of the night. And oh, they do sound quite hungry.

"Tell me, do you fear death? No? Well, you should," the creature said with a hint of a smile as dozens and dozens of fangs tore into the young man's skin, tearing away at his soul till nothing was left but the impenetrable darkness of nothingness.

* * *

The trees rustled against one another, whispering the secrets of the wind. An endless number of truths had been thrown back to the wind and now swirled about in the delicate form of fallen leaves. The leaves, the inconspicuous holders of truth, danced around the ankles of those who walked to and fro across the age-old campus of the University of Bristol. A swarm of students, some freshman and most under-graduates, shouted out to one another in a joyous cry of welcome. The university had opened its doors that weekend to the student population as a whole. A few days before the arrival of the others, freshmen had been wandering the campus, tripping along after guides who pointed this and that out about the historic campus in which they would spend the next four or so years. Overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of information, rules, orientation, the occasional 'I forgot a toothbrush!', and the like, the freshmen were more than happy to be let loose by their guides.

Many clotted together with those they had acquainted themselves with during the days of orientation while others branched out, boldly striding up to upperclassmen. Upperclassmen watched in amusement as many of the freshmen make complete asses out of themselves- not intentionally, of course.

A campus tour guide had been contently watching the mingling of the new students when a light poke to his shoulder startled him, making him drop his clipboard. "Wha- oh, hello there," he said quite dumbly as he bent down, gathering up his papers that had been thrown about in the slight wind.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you!" said a soft voice from above him.

"No, you didn't frighten me. Merely startled me," he corrected, glancing up at the one who had spoken.

The tour guide paused in his gathering of papers as he gawked up at the young woman before him. She wore nothing striking, nothing extreme. It was, in his opinion, her eyes that had him staring up in awe. Two clear, innocent blue eyes peered down at him in uncertainty. He was mesmerized by them- star struck, even-, by the oceanic orbs that carried a depth not known to him before.

It took him a moment to realize that she was saying something. _Again_. He had been too caught up in her gaze.

"What?"

"Your papers. They're flying away." She pointed toward a few stray papers that danced along in the gentle breeze.

He cursed; rising to his full height as he dismissively waves a hand towards the papers that fly about the feet of the other students. "They're just brochures for the freshmen anyway," he explained, turning his attention back to the stranger before him.

The young woman stood a few heads shorted than himself but held herself as a soldier would; back straight, feet together, shoulders back, stomach in, chin up. And yet, though she had a slight of air of military-like posture, the young woman seemed to radiant a gentle, almost timid aura. Again, it was the eyes that helped convey the air of doe-like gentleness and innocence.

"What can I help you with?" he asked, clipping the few papers he had managed to grab to his clipboard as he shook his head, trying his best to dismiss his thoughts.

"Well, I know this'll be a bother, but I'm a freshman. Er," she pursed her lips, her brows furrowing a bit. "I, uh, couldn't make it to orientation and I'm a bit lost. Completely lost, actually. I don't even know where my dorm is," she sighed, hanging her head a bit at the confession.

"Lost, eh? Good thing I'm a tour guide." Even to him, that sounded a bit corny. "What I'm trying to say is that I can help you get your bearings. My name is Adrian Wetherstone," he said, tucking his clipboard beneath his arm before extending his hand out towards the young woman.

"Nikola Wester," Seras Victoria replied, meeting his hand with a surprisingly firm grip.

* * *

AN: Heya! This is, if you haven't caught on, an AU focused around college. Though there are some fairly major twists in the usual college AU (as seen by the little snip-it of the antagonists of this story at the beginning), the characters will adhere to how they are in the cannon Hellsing. And, though I only had a small portion showing her, Seras is the main point-of-view in this story.

I haven't had a chance to look through some of this, so tell me if anything isn't really able to be followed (in other words, isn't totally coherent), and tell me if there are any glaring errors in spelling and/or grammar.

How was it? Somewhat interesting? Boring? Neat? Dumb? Either way, please write a review to tell me if you hated it, loved it, feel indifferent to it, or honestly can't tell what the hell(sing) is going on.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: I honestly forgot the biggest part of being an undercover cop: the fake name. Wow. How dense am I? Anyway, I updated the last chapter to include the new name. But honestly, I feel extraordinarily dumb.

* * *

 **Chapter Two: The Life of Nikola Wester**

Nikola Wester. Born in 1997 in the roaring metropolis known as London, she was brought into this world by two loving parents, Barb and Joe Wester. Not being athletically gifted, the girl tended to hone in on her academic career. Nikola was nothing short of the parallel opposite of a social butterfly. Though rusty in the departments of social interaction and the such, she never hesitated in joining almost all of her school's clubs and activities. Debate, student council, religion, and the like. Along with leadership roles in many of the clubs she participated in and an accumulative AAA grades for all of her A level classes, Nikola was almost guaranteed acceptance into Bristol University. Her favorite color was blue and she never cared for rainy days. She had a cat named Phillip but had always wanted a dog named… a dog named… a dog named…

"Rupert" cried out the young woman in relief as she finally squeezed her foot into a boot. "Rupert, she'd wanted a dog named Rupert."

That was how it had been all morning; the young woman slowly dressing herself as she struggled to remember the life of Nikola Wester. Nikola Wester, a woman who shared the same face as the young woman who now strode over to a rickety old desk, but not the same name. Sprawled over the face of this desk was the life of Nikola Wester in both print and pictures. Pictures that spoke of a happy youth gifted with even jollier parents while her life was sketched out upon nothing more than two sheets of paper. These were supposed to be something to keep the life of Nikola Wester alive and fresh within the young woman's mind.

"The more she is real to you, the more she is real to the rest of the world," the young woman's mentor, and Chief Inspector, Robert Butler had told her on many occasions.

The name and life of Nikola Wester- who did not exist besides vague records made up by the Metropolitan Police and a few 'dated' photos- was given to Seras Victoria- a young woman who had been, until two weeks ago, an up and coming police constable of the world renowned Metropolitan Police- as an assignment. Yes, Officer Victoria had only been with the force just shy of a year. Yes, Officer Victoria was most certainly inexperienced in many fields. And yes, Officer Victoria was also one of those people others pegged as an 'easy target'. But it was many of these reasons, and a few others, which the Deputy Commissioner, Tim Alburn, had come to Seras with this 'special mission'.

The Metropolitan Police, known for helping here and there within the overall nation on particularly large cases, had been approached by the Chief Constable of the Avon and Somerset Constabulary about an epidemic of sorts revolving around the disappearances of countless students from the several universities in the city of Bristol, primarily from Bristol University itself. That and the fact that rumors told of an occult following that somehow found itself in the center of these disappearances. Upon wondering why the force needed the help of the Metropolitan Police, the Chief Constable had said that, despite constant efforts, nothing of worth came from questioning of the students as a whole. Sure, a few students suspected of foul play or noted for having been pegged as those involved with the occult had been questioned individually, but no-one would budge.

The Chief Constable had come up with the idea of bringing in a young police officer, someone not around long enough to be well known, and setting them up with residence in a nearby hall and sending them to both act as a new student at the University of Bristol as well as observe the student life around them. Seras Victoria, being such a person, was immediately put to the task when her mentor and elder, Robert Butler, had caught wind of the proposed undercover mission and had instantly recommended her for the job.

It was because of that that Seras now found herself as the newest resident in a single room within Churchill Hall, a rather large dorm just 30 or so minutes away from the University when walking. The living space was a bit cramped, if Seras was being honest with herself. But, if she was going to be completely honest with herself, her flat in London wasn't much larger. Though, there she had her own bathroom. Oh well, at least her newest accommodation had a sink only three feet from her bed. Yes, a sink of all things. Right next to the desk with a mirror hung above it. Odd.

But never mind the sink, Seras had work to do. Actual work, really. The police force that had snatched her up and remade her into Nikola Wester had scored Seras with a work-study job. "To make it more realistic," they claimed. Oh well, she could handle some sort of desk job. What she really needed to focus on right now was getting to class.

Seras tore her gaze away from the papers that told her all there was to know about the fictitious Nikola Wester and instead settled her gaze on her old, fraying book bag that was crammed full of textbooks she had already bought. As she slung the bag over her shoulders, she fought down the growing feeling of paranoia that ate away at her nerves. What if someone didn't believe her? What if someone knew her? What if they realized that Nikola Wester is actually a police constable who is trying to gain the trust of God knows who in the hope that she can receive some sort of knowledge on those who have gone missing? What if she messes up? What if? What if?

 _No,_ she began to reason with herself as she brushed her bangs out of her eyes and slipped out of her room. _You'll be fine. Set yourself up for success, not failure._

Seras began repeating other phrases of encouragement as she took off down the halls, joining several other students as they too made their way to the school. Down the hall, down a few flights of stairs, around a few corners, and out she and a few other students went.

Before the three connected dorm buildings that made up Churchill Hall was a thick, freshly cut sea of grass that stretched on and on only to be cut off by a dense crowding of trees. Marching along this grass were other students who clotted together in groups of twos and threes, all making their ways toward a small, yet visible path that lead into the forest that had encroached upon the sea of green. Trees, many with leaves turning various shades of brown, orange, and red, lined the edge of the lawn and seemed to grow only denser the further one went on in the path. But, as Seras found as she began to walk along the well worn path, the forest didn't last for long. It soon thinned out and came to an end along a sidewalk that traveled along a fairly busy road. Seras, upon reaching the sidewalk, threw a parting glance at the peaceful forest before adjusting her book bag and following the steady stream of students. Seras was too focused on not getting lost in the metropolis that seemed to come out of nowhere- or, and this was most likely, the tamed nature that surrounded Churchill Hall is what came out of nowhere. It was no time at all before more and more students fell into stride beside Seras, each conversing with one another- some for a first time and others for a thousandth.

The great shadow was the first thing Seras noticed about the University of Bristol's campus. She had been glancing around, switching her gaze between the students and the architecture of the buildings that intermixed styles of the past and the present when the sun's warm glow all but disappeared, leaving her shivering. She looked up, expecting to see a cloud passing over the sun that still hung low in the sky only to find the peak of a gothic style building reaching up into the heavens. As she came closer and left behind the roaring hub of the city, more and more buildings popped up here and there, some with Greek-like columns while others were built like fortresses and castles. It left her in complete awe. It was as if the University had selected certain aspects of each era and decided to construct buildings in memory. The most striking of them all, though, was the gothic structure that rose above the rest. It was, when Seras had asked some of the elder students walking past her, the Wills Memorial Building. The name rung a bell somewhere inside her mind, but she pushed it aside and continued to gawk up at the intimidating structure. Four twin peaks rose from each side and from amongst them came a rectangular dome that featured a rather simple, albeit elegant design in each arched window that was etched into each side. Though it reminded Seras of a cathedral she had seen on a postcard somewhere and some-when, she couldn't help but shiver once more under its seemingly ominous shadow.

Upon being nearly knocked over, a rather portly young man hollered over his shoulder at her, "Oi, make me late to class, why don't ya?!"

That got her attention. She suddenly fished around in her pants pocket before pulling out her mobile. She cheeked the time as she dodged another hurried student. Goodness! Her first class was scheduled to start in three minutes!

Casting one last fleeting glance up at the rather foreboding and gloomy gothic tower, Seras turned on her heels and took off in the direction of her first class. If she would have glanced around her, though, she might have caught the several pairs of eyes that were watching her every move.

* * *

The day dragged by and Seras wished several times that she had denied this oh-so grand job opportunity. There was nothing spectacular about nearly nodding off in class when the professor droned on and on about the term's syllabus. There was nothing exciting about getting assigned assignment after assignment on her very first day of class. There was nothing justice related about tripping up and down stairs when she couldn't see over her textbooks.

The day, thankfully, came to a close just as twilight threatened to throw the campus into shadows and eternal gloom. Seras sighed, coming to rest against a tree within the campus's main courtyard. Her textbooks that hadn't been able to fit within her book bag rested against the tree's trunk and only served as a reminder that she'd have to go out and purchase a new bag. She sighed, leaning fully on the tree as she dug around in the book bag that now hung limply in her arms. She brought forth a book that had a crimson ribbon threaded through a page, marking it for later reading.

The young woman dropped the bag beside her so that she could turn the book over in her hands, examining the book in all its understated glory. The book bore no design or trimming on its cover and back. Only its spine declared to the world what story its contents held. _The Grapes of Wrath_.

She pursed her lips, her finger tracing the bold letters as she contemplated something momentarily. The distant cawing of a crow brought her out of her thoughts, though, and she shook her head to further dismiss her mind's wanderings. She flipped through the contents of the thick book until she came to a page that held within it a simple piece of loose-leaf paper that bore only two names: Wills Memorial Library, and Miss Wetherspoon.

Both the campus and the city that was teeming with life fell under the dusky, lurid glow of crepuscule as Seras made her way

* * *

to the front steps of the grand, imposing gothic library. She paused as a wind picked up, carelessly rustling and tossing about golden and burgundy leaves around her feet as she gazed up towards the heavens. Clouds skirted across the once clear sky, blotting out what was left of the beautiful sunset that the night had yet to devour. It was this same sunset of gorgeous reds that faded into vivid oranges only to settle into a dull, yet defiant yellow that accentuated the Wills Memorial Building and left it only as some great looming figure that's face was skewed by shadows. The darkness seemed to churn and melt into even blacker shadows as the young woman was enveloped by the same velvety gloom that hung in the arched doorway.

From shadows came a sudden, fierce artificial light that forced Seras to blink a few times as she shielded her eyes beneath her hand as she let her hold fall away on the massive library's door. The library slowly came into focus. And when it did, Seras gasped. The sheer size of it easily dwarfed her. Before her stood rows and rows of bookcases that were chalked full of books. Along the walls, in the divots and crevasses, were more books than Seras could ever hope to read in her life. It was a scholar's paradise and a bookworm's dream come true. They were right, the movies. People really did fall in love on first sight; Seras just did with the library.

Seras walked forward in an awed daze, trying to take in the pure beauty that surrounded her. She stumbled upon tables that were situated within the main portion of the library and served as a study area for students. A few of these said students glared at the clumsy blond who had practically knocked over a chair and disturbed their once seemingly impregnable silence.

She mumbled an apology as she bowed her head, righting the chair before hastily retreating from the students who continued to glower at her. Seras fidgeted with the straps of her book bag and shifted the weight of her textbooks around in her arms as she grumbled self ridicule.

It was here, in a rather inconspicuous nook of the library where one bookshelf ended and another began, that Seras continued to mutter to herself like a loon while a concerned and rather annoyed woman with a bad hip or two threw a hand onto the shoulder of the youngster.

Seras shrieked in surprise before clapping her hand over her mouth and almost losing her books in the process.

"Hush, child! This no way to act in a library. And, if you were unaware, this is, indeed, a library," hissed the woman whose hand was still clamped onto Seras' shoulder.

Seras turned, her cheeks burning with embarrassment, and faced an aging woman with grey streaks running through her hair that fell in tight brown ringlet around her round, ruddy face. Glasses framed two intelligent hazel eyes that were narrowed in annoyance up at the perpetrator of the noisy, noisy ruckus.

She gulped, meeting the older lady's gaze full on. The woman was shorter than Seras by a full head, yet seemed to possess this intimidating aura that made her appear much, much taller, and far, far less frail.

"I… I," Seras paused, lowering her voice to a whisper to lessen the woman's scowl. "I'm sorry. I'm new here."

"So are a majority of the students here. What makes you any different?"

Seras eyed the hand on her shoulder, wanting nothing more than to take a step or two away from this woman. "I… um, say," she said, stepping to the side of the woman and not away from her like she so desperately wanted to. She didn't want to come off as rude. "Do you happen to know who Miss Weth.. Wetherspoon is? I'm here about a work-study job."

"Of course you are," the older woman sighed, using her newly freed hand to push her glasses farther up the rim of her nose. "I'm Miss Wetherspoon, the university's head librarian and the one who will be primarily directing you, miss...?"

"Wester. Nikola Wester."

* * *

Seras was quickly put to work. Her first task was to complete a checklist in which she scoured the gigantic library, looking for entire genres and individual names. Once the older woman, Miss Wetherspoon, finally thought that Seras was well enough acquainted with the library, she made the young woman return books to their rightful selves.

In between each stack of books she was to return, Seras had time to study and tackle the mound of homework she was somehow supposed to finish on the side of a work-study job, which was on the side of her real job- being a police officer. But, she supposed, being a student was her _new_ job. She had to fit in _seamlessly_ , lest someone pick up on her trail. But that wasn't proving too difficult, for Nikola Wester's life seemed to take off before Seras' eyes.

Days passed and Seras grew more and more dependent upon the fictitious Nikola Wester that had begun to live vicariously through Seras. Or was it the other way around? Seras wasn't sure. The two were practically the same; same face, same laugh, same smile, same innocence, same tomboy attitude, same brash manners at times, same idealistic theology that made her hold morals in high regard- same everything. Well, besides the upbringing. Seras grew up in isolation while Nikola grew up within the arms of her parents and held in high regard within the hearts of her peers.

But never mind that. If this were to work- and by God, it had to- Seras had to completely put herself in the mindset of any normal student attending the University of Bristol.

Her daily life quickly fell into place. Wake up, attend class, eat and socialize with students who were ignorant of her trickery and deception, study for a bit, go to the library and work, and walk home with a new student each night.

It was a relief, honestly, that the students were so friendly to her. It made it all the easier to gather a general consensus of all the happenings around campus; anything from the daily gossip and juicy rumors to wacky myths and outlandish legends. Though Seras could care less about who was sleeping with whom, she did take interest in the myths and legends. But it was a rumor that was whispered to her in a hushed tone beneath the eaves that stretched overhead the beaten dirt path in the forest did Seras gain her first real clue about the disappearances.

The young man had paused in his casual stride and glanced around for nonexistent eyes before leaning in close to Seras. The man was aspiring to be an English major and it showed in his oh-so vivid- and most likely stretched- tale that he spun for her. The rumor told of a club that existed outside of the university and was solely run by a handpicked faction of students. When asked why that was such an oddity, the young man rose both of his hands into the air and shook them in a poor mockery of Count Dracula and said, "Because zhe consort vthe ze Devil and practzice magic!" His utterly crappy Romanian accent got him a punch in the arm and a series of uproarious laughs and snorts from Seras.

"No," he shook his head and something in his voice made her laughter die away. "I'm serious; they're into some freaky shit."

Freaky? She had wanted him to explain more, but he had taken off before she could ask. It was as if he wanted to leave behind their conversation for only the night animals of the forest and the gentle wind that had whispered across their skin.

* * *

Seras began mulling over the young man's words once again as she weaved in and out of bookshelves, stuffing and cramming books into their rightful places. That was the first solid lead she had been given and yet it was nothing but a rumor! It could have been a lie for all she knew, but… But something deep within her told her that it was true. That the lead was just the tip of the iceberg.

Seras stumbled, getting jostled out of her thoughts. She dropped the books in favour of saving herself. The books fell to the floor in a series of THUD's as she caught herself from falling on her ass and making a complete fool out of herself. The force of her ramming against the bookshelf, though, caused a few books- hardcover books, for the love of God!- to topple out of the shelves and smack into her on their hurried way to the hardwood floor… The same hardwood floor that Seras soon found herself rubbing an already forming bump on her head while grumbling a string of curses aimed at her own incompetence.

"Stupid, dense imbecile… Daft tosser. Bloody-"

"Oi! Th' books did not'nin' to ya, now did they?"

Seras looked up to find two young men gazing down at her, one worried and one amused. She immediately began to gather the books in her arms as embarrassment made her cheeks turn a dark shade of scarlet.

Seras reached for a book just as hand swooped down and snatched it up. She glanced up only to find that one young man, the worried one, had knelt beside her and was stacking the books into a neat pile beside him.

"What my friend meant to say was, 'Do you need help?' So," he reached across the narrow aisle to retrieve another fallen book. "Do you need help?"

Seras was too embarrassed to speak. Oh, great. Here she was, on her hands and knees, in the midst of a pile of books, looking like a complete loon. Or, and this was surely worse, she looked like some helpless fawn who'd tripped and needed the saving of some grand, white knight. Hell, no. She could kiss her own 'boo-boo's, thank you very much. Seras was Seras' own hero.

After a long moment of awkward silence, the young man cleared his throat before speaking. "So, ah... Are you new to campus at all? I, uh, are you... Hey! We've met before!" he exclaimed suddenly. "You were late at freshman orientation, right? What's your name... Oh, ah, Nicole! No, ah… _Nikola_!"

Seras glanced over, taking a good, long, hard look at the young man. And, oh God, she _did_ know him. He was right; he was the tour guide who had practically given her a private tour of the University's grounds. As her cheeks flared brighter, her mortification only grew.

"You didn't even know where your dorms were, right?"

"I, uh," Seras paused, clearing her throat. "Yeah, that was me," she sheepishly admitted.

"Did my directions help at all? Was it easy to find your dorm? Well, they must have. I mean, you don't look like you've been sleeping on the streets."

"Tha' or else she asked someone more 'elpful."

Seras looked up at the other young man who was leaning against a library shelf, carelessly fingering an unlit cigarette. He laughed at his friend's pained expression.

"Oi, 'm only jokin'."

"Yeah, what the joker you are." The tour guide responded before placing one last book atop his stack and picking it up. He looked around the books in his arms at Seras, his thick rimmed glasses slipping down the ridge of his nose. "Where these to, boss?"

Seras started at the nickname, having heard it before when she was in the police force. 'Boss' or 'kitten' were the nicknames given to her by her fellow constables only to be taken up by the entire office. She could never go a day without someone either mockingly shouting 'boss' or affectionately calling her 'kitten'.

She shook her head, clearing it of the past and her other life. Right now she needed to focus on Nikola Wester.

"Bring them to a table and I'll sort them."

He nodded, following after her as she took off towards the stairs that lead down to the main portion of the library. She dumped the books onto a table whose light was off. She flicked the small lamp's light on, and wasted no time in sorting out the books once again.

Once she had set all of the books she had collected in a pile, each according to a section of the library, the young man began handing her books off of his own stack.

"Adrian, right?"

"What?" he asked, caught off guard.

"Your name's Adrian, right? Adrian Wetherstone?"

"Oh, yeah. Some call me Ian, but you can do whichever."

Seras nodded, taking another book from him.

"So," she said after a moment, determined to make conversation. "What're you doing in the library this late at night? You and your _friend_ don't seem to be the studying type." She stressed the word friend as she threw a glance over her shoulder at the nameless young man who was lazily strolling through the library, his cigarette still in hand.

"Him? No. Me? Yes. I have to get the grades up or else my scholarship will be taken away."

"Oh," Seras looked away, regretting her little jab. "I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"No," he waved his hand, dismissing her apologies. "It's fine. I'm used to it with _him_ in tow. Anyway, to answer your question, my friend and I came here looking for something rather specific. Say," he leant his back against the edge of the table as he handed her the last book. "Do you happen to know if you have any- oh, this is going to sound a bit weird- occult-like books here, by chance? Not fiction ones, either. Like, real, honest occult books."

"See," he bent over a bit, towering over the small blond as she leaned in closer to better hear his whispers. "I'm in this group, and we like to... Oh, how do I say this delicately? We study the more _obscure_ sciences of the world. Yes, science, not magic. That and legends. You see, we like to explore what exactly goes bump in the night."

He paused, waiting for her reaction. Seras' heartbeat took flight and she was internally screaming and cheering while she externally portrayed nothing. Police training told her to never give away what she really thought. She instead nodded and put on a face that she hoped looked intrigued. And, according to the smile that grew on his face, he bought it.

"What goes bump in the night as in..?"

"Werewolves, ghosts, ghouls, wizards, _vampires_ \- you name it."

"Why, though? They're just stories, right?"

"We're all just stories in the end," he said, his smile widening as Seras laughed, not believing him for a second.

"And, if they are real, what do you plan to do then? Join the ranks of the undead?" She wiggled her brows suggestively before breaking out into a fit of laughter.

 _"Yeah, something like that."_

* * *

AN: Whoops. Every person's name begins with 'Wether' in this story. Also, thank you for the reviews! Ah! I'm glad people thought the opening was somewhat 'fun'. Boy, let me tell you. This story is about to get _fun_. This chapter mostly serves as a basis for the story and builds the situation that Seras is in. Basically, it was boring as shit.

But! Let me tell you, good folks, that- and excuse my French- shit is going to hit the fan very, _very_ shortly.

And, le gasp, where is Alucard, Sir Integra, and the rest of the gang? Excellent question! Why, the next chapter, of course! Dun, dun, duuuun!

No, but seriously. Things are going to quickly escalate into grand, beautiful chaos. Eee! I am extraordinarily excited to write the next chapter (I am already a few pages into it, as it is), and IT IS GOING TO BE GRUESOMEEeee! I mean, *coughs and glances away* only if you're into that sort of a thing. And, I'm going to guess since you all watched Hellsing, you all like that. *Insert cheeky smile here*

Alright, so the next chapter should be up in a week and a beginning chapter should be put up for a Hellsing fanfiction which takes place _after_ the 30 year gap after a few hours of this chapter being posted. Gasp!

(Also, I suck at self-editing and error revising, so if you see anything- anything at all- don't hesitate to tell me!)


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: The Faces Within a Crowd**

BaDOM…

BaDOM…

BabaDOM…

A loud clobbering rung through the grimy, unlit, and utterly miserable jail cells, making the tenants of the age riddled cages cower against one another in fear. With each crash of the crowbar that the terrified humans _just knew_ was being dragged across bar after bar of the jail's cells, the humans grasped onto those around them, trying to seek comfort from the dozen other souls that had been crammed into their cage. They all collectively stopped breathing, as if that would help them hide from the searching eyes that glowed a faint crimson in the pure darkness. Their hearts hammered against their chests, trying their damned best to break free and run away from this hellish nightmare of gore and screams.

They all knew what the sound meant. They all knew what the pause between each beating of the crowbar meant for their fates. It meant that _The Being_ was selecting its nightly meal. _Which one?_ The shrill sound of metal on metal seemed to shriek as a door was unlocked and slowly swung open. _Who shall perish tonight?_ Asked the light footfalls that made the humans huddle into the corner, fear rolling off of them in delectable, delicious waves. Oh, how _The Being_ reveled in their fear.

The humans heard a deep humming as the two crimson eyes seemed to sway in the darkness as _The Being_ began rocking back and forth, biting its knuckle when all of the possibilities left it absolutely indecisive. Instead of drawing blood, a human, one closer to the monster, let out a cry of true terror as shadows seeped out of the light graze that its teeth had left on its knuckle.

Suddenly _The Being_ stopped altogether; instead of swaying, it stood absolutely still, eyes trained on the human who had dared disturb its thoughts; instead of humming, silence crept its way back into the cramped cell and seemed to weigh upon each human who, oh-so selfishly, was fearing for his own life. _The Being_ crouched down, coming to eye-level with the rude, noisy human.

It cocked its head, the motion clearly saying: _And just who the hell do you think you are?_

Tears filled the human's- a young man, barely over the age of 18- eyes as _The Being_ loomed closer. From out of the manifested shadows that came together to form the body of _The Being_ , came a long, sickly pink thing from where its head should be. It seemed to run over its lips as it narrowed its eyes as its newly found prey. As much as _The Being_ enjoyed the thrill of the hunt, the potent aroma of pure, unhindered horror was like the human equivalent of heroin and cocaine mixed together with a dash of crack sprinkled in.

 _The Being_ trembled with barely restrained glee as he basked in the fear. It let the oh-so human sensation wash over it and leave it quivering in absolute pleasure. Perhaps, to a human, it could be equated to sex. Perhaps, to a human, it could be paralleled with the sensation of drinking water after walking 40 days in a desert wasteland. Perhaps, to a human, the power that soared through its veins and rejuvenated it could be said to be the same adrenaline fueled sensation as when one escapes by the hairs on his neck from a near death experience. But it would never know, it was far too greedy to take the time and ask. It was always too eager to consume a life; to devour a human's very essence. The act of carving out a human's soul from their mortal body and leaving it a hollowed out husk of its former self left _The Being_ just… just salivating at the mere thought.

The young man, through the wisps of shadows that seemed to weave themselves through one another to form the body before him, could see the insatiable hunger that stared him down, all too ready to try and quench it's never ending thirst by gobbling him up. The young man quivered, the tears quickly turning to sobs as he fell to his knees, his hands clasped over his head as he pressed his cheek into the grimy stones of the jail cell's floor. He began pleading for mercy, for forgiveness, for a quick death- for _anything._ And, as the young man felt God turn a blind eye from the pure monstrosity and abomination that towered over him, he began pulling and tugging at his matted hair.

The young man's fear had reached its climax as he tore tuffs of his hair out in insanity that was fueled by desperation and terror. The rest of the humans, who cowered in the corner and couldn't help but watch in morbid fascination, had seen many others go mad at the feet of _The Being_. The brink of death was before them and, when threatened with the final push that would send one tumbling down into the fiery depths of Hell, many would fall under lunacy as horror pumped through their veins and the fact that escape was impossible crushed them underfoot.

Suddenly _The Being_ threw its head back and let out a high, cackling screech of a laugh that grated against the humans' fear and made them cry out in pain. The young man at its feet kicked out wildly, his arms flailing as he tried in vain to grasp onto anything- _anything at all_ \- that could save him. He screamed for someone to save him, he shrieked at the other human's in the corner who did nothing but watch; he cursed and damned the creature above him for its vile, cruel ways.

"Oh," _The Being_ asked, cocking its head inquisitively as its laughter echoed through the cell and the chambers that lead to only more and more cells filled to the brim with encaged humans. "Are you damming me to Hell, little boy? Oh, really?"

The only answer it got was a spat curse and a tuft of hair throw at its feet.

"Well, you see," it enunciated its words slowly, bending over at the waist to properly examine the crazed young man. "One cannot damn another to their home, now can they?"

The young man's eyes widened, his hands pausing in their tearing.

"Yes, little boy. Hell is real. It is very, very real. And, as it just so happens…" A flash of sharpened teeth, rows upon rows of them, glinted in the limited light provided by the waxing moon that shone in through the opened cell door. "… that it has a vacancy. Now, and I'm not sure about you." It leaned in towards the young man, clearing the space between them. The young man gasped and gagged, clutching his throat as the shadows seemed to suck all the air from his lungs. "I'm never one to pass up on such a _blessing_ experience."

* * *

"… 'ank you all fer comin' tonight! We'll be back next Saturday! Goodnigh', Bristol!"

The heavyset man with deep, dark wrinkles etched into his features waved towards the crowded pub before slipping off the lanyard his saxophone was attached to. His band mates did similar things and leapt off, or in the case of a few more portly members who rather tumbled off more than anything, the raised stage and went their separate ways to mingle with the crowd. The tall, dark-skinned saxophone player brushed past a young blond woman's table on his way towards the bar. He apologized in passing as his bum knocked against the woman's table, spilling her watered down beer. The young woman muttered a curse or two under her breath as she began dabbing at the beer with the hem of her cardigan.

 _Of course,_ the young woman thought bitterly as she gingerly picked up the old book that had been opened before her. _It just had to get all over it. Miss Wetherspoon is going to kill me… With a spoon, no doubt. She'll find a way._

"Tsk, tsk. What's this? Wittle Wester decided to take a dip in her beer with her book? How ridiculous, the poor thing."

Seras Victoria's gaze flickered up at the voice. 'Wittle Wester' was a nickname given to Seras- well, Nikola- a few days ago and instantly became synonyms with her name. Well, with Nikola's name.

"Need a napkin, Wittle Wester?" inquired a tall, slender woman with voluptuous curves and voluminous black hair. The woman's eyes and grin were striking in the way that both bespoke of some hidden secret that they had on another person. Her smirk seemed to say, _I know who you are_ , while her eyes said, _and I know what you're running from._ It was an uneasy feeling that the woman's gaze seemed to cast upon Seras. And yet it was also hypnotic. The more unnerved Seras became, the more she wished to hang on the woman's hip. What was the saying? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

Nonetheless, the woman had become a fixed friend. Someone who continuously found herself day after day at Seras' elbow, walking with her home from the university or following her around at the library when work was slow.

"Well," the woman prodded, waving a stack of napkins in the air as drop after drop of cold beer dripped into Seras' lap.

"I- oh, yeah! Napkins. Yes, thank you."

Seras took the offered napkins and made quick work of the pools of beer that flooded the top of the varnished wood table. She then tried dabbing at the spine and covers of her book, cursing again as she saw the pages already begin to warp and become discolored.

"Nikola, was your head in the clouds again? You have to stop doing that, you know. Or else that thing called gravity- you know, the thing always pressing down on us- is going to slam you back to earth with no mercy. None at all."

"So, is that what you're learning in advanced physics, Simone?" asked a deep, familiar voice. Seras needn't have glanced up for she knew the voice well; the clear articulation, the way that several words were accented, the way that his tone clipped the end of the question and left it hanging in the air.

It was _him._ Mathias Vultri. Mathias Vultri, a high ranking member of the occult club that lied in a constant sheet of obscurity and rumor. He was one of the few known members. Many members of the acclaimed occult club preferred to lie low and not cause suspicion, but Mathias did the polar opposite. Instead, the college senior would regularly boast about his placement in the club and would leave cryptic little hints in his enchanting voice that seemed to be able to entrance any listener. He was the primary lead that Officer Seras Victoria was absolutely certain would lead her to the heart of the occult club. The same occult club that just so happened to be in the midst of the disappearances of university students.

Behind Mathias' broad shoulders were two other young men. Adrian nodded towards Seras while the other simply flicked his unlit cigarette in her direction. (Seras had come to know that the young man who always carried around an unlit cigarette was called Tommy Garner.)

Simone- whose name was pronounced sigh-moan, as she was very adamant about informing everyone-slid into the booth just opposite of Seras. The other woman winked at Seras when Adrian scooted in towards Seras, who was still dabbing at her wet jeans, the damn things. Tommy slipped in next to Simone, wiggling a suggestive brow at the young woman which only earned him a pair of rolled eyes and a flick of dark curls. Mathias dragged a chair forth- how he even found one in the busy pub, Seras hadn't the foggiest-, and assumed the head of the booth.

"So," Mathias threaded his fingers together and rested his chin atop of them. "What brings you to the Old Duke, Nikola? We haven't seen you here before."

"Not that we come here often, though," interjected Simone who threw a look of ' _don't be a dick_ ' towards Mathias. She then leant across the table to further explain her remark to Seras. "We're often going to this pub a while aways from here, see."

"Yes," Mathias simply raised a brow, almost disinterested entirely. "But we come here often enough. It was an innocent question, truly."

"Well," Seras began to say as the full attention of the group turned to her. She resisted the urge to fidget in her seat and instead took to aimlessly dabbing at the book once again. "I was only just recommended that I come here. Hilary told me about it in psych yesterday."

"Hilary Balefield?"

Seras nodded in the affirmative while Simone ahhed knowingly. Seras felt the bench shift beside her and glanced over at Adrian. He was turned towards her, his face resting against his fist while his expression was one of honest inquiry. That was something that Seras liked about the young man. He was honest in everything he did. Whether his opinion was positive or not, he still voiced it. He was, in her opinion, the only person she felt any real connection with. Her, Seras Victoria, not the false persona of Nikola Wester.

"Yes, how do you like it?" Mathias asked, gesturing towards the bustling pub that was filled with boisterous laughter and drunken slurs.

"It certainly lives up to its name," she said, meeting his gaze.

"Oh," Mathias leaned forward. "In that its jazz is remarkable?"

"No, because it's rather old," she said, feeling the joke fall flat on its ass. The joke was, in Seras' opinion, a damn good one. The Old Duke is rather old. Hah. Get it? Seras got it. The only response she got was a twitch of the lips from Mathias and a wink from Adrian that made Simone kick her ankles under the table.

"That it is," Mathias said quickly, saving Seras from the awkward silence. "Either way, we were only stopping by to say hello." Mathias had begun to rise from his seat when Simone shot him a glance that made his eyes widen slightly in realization. "Oh, yes, I nearly forgot." Had he? "I was told to invite you to, ah… Oh…," he trailed off, patting his coat's various pockets before producing forth a thick envelope from one. "I was told to invite you to a party this All Saints' Eve.-"

"Tha's Halloween, if ya did' know," piped up Tommy.

Mathias raised a brow in his direction which silenced the young man. How'd he do that? Seras would have liked to known. "Yes, Halloween. It's informal, but it is recommended that you wear a costume. It is a mixer of sorts for possible candidates for…" He gave Seras a look and she instantly knew what he meant- _the occult club_. "You will be graded on how well you are able to mix with the crowds. Though, you will not be told who is simply there for the party and who is already a member. I hope that you make your way, come All Hallows' Eve."

Seras nodded, unsure of what to say as she took the thick envelope from Mathias. "Thank you," she said after a moment.

"You're welcome, Wittle Wester," Simone responded for Mathias. He had already risen from his seat and was tapping his fingers restlessly against the back of the chair. Simone flashed a sultry, suggestive smile towards Seras before following Tommy's leave and vacating her side of the booth. Adrian, too, slid out of the booth, coming to stand behind Mathias. They looked like some sort of hit squad. Mathias their cold, calculating- yet extraordinarily pompous- leader. Tommy, their wise-guy with brute strength. Simone who could easily woo the chastest of people and had an air of mystery to her. And Adrian, Mathias' right hand man who was highly intelligent and able to do Mathias' dirty work.

With a parting nod from Mathias, they moved silently through the crowded pub before getting lost in the sea of people.

Seras stared after them, unsure of how to react to the encounter. This was good, right? This was one step closer to finding out all there was to know about the inconspicuous occult club. And that meant that Seras was one step closer to ending the strain of disappearances… The same disappearances that had only grown in numbers in the last few weeks. It was late October and the count of the missing rose from the staggering 23 missing people at the beginning of the month to the impossible number of 43 missing persons. It was ludicrous- in every sense of the word.

"Miss?" inquired a heavily accented voice that tore Seras from her thoughts. "Would you like another beer?" The waitress glanced down at the wet wad of napkins and the streak marks that her hasty cleaning job had given the table. "It seems tha' the table didn't get enough last time."

* * *

Another band had taken the stage while Seras found herself lost within her book once again. A half-full glass of beer rested next to the book- but not too close, she needn't have the book drenched again- and hadn't been touched in the last twenty minutes or so. Whenever Seras became absorbed in a book, she became completely clueless to the world that turned outside of the one her mind had traveled to. The sweet, tangy jazz that poured from the stage came to swirl around Seras and only amplified the intensity of her reading. The live music provided a soundtrack to the reading she was immersed in.

Page after page, section after section. She gobbled up the words like a starving man. And, perhaps, she was. Her soul thirsted for knowledge in a way that was both insatiable and yet quenched daily. Each new lesson, each thought provoking idea only served as fodder that her mind would chew on and absorb in its entirety before demanding more. Books were her favorite source of food for her scholarly soul. And this book was a great one at that. This book put things into a certain light that Seras had never thought of before. It was extraordinary- revolutionary, even. To put _that_ point of view in that situatio-

" _Hellsing_?"

Seras paused in her reading. She tensed instantly while her knuckles turned white from her viselike grip she held the thick, almost ancient book with. There was something about the voice that had uttered only a mere word that was able to drag her out of her thoughts that had her instantaneously on edge. There was this cold, apathetic, and, yet, almost mocking tone to the simple question. It sent shivers running up and down Seras' spine. A voice, from somewhere deep and instinctual inside of her, screamed and shrieked that she needed to get up and run. Run. Run. Yes, Seras needed to run. Run far, far away. But from what?

"And just what is a pretty little thing like you doing reading a book about monsters and ghouls?"

There it was again. That feeling of nails scrapping across the back of her neck while wind seemed to blow across her shoulder blades, setting her nerves on fire. What was this? This sense of utter panic?

"It interests me," Seras replied, her voice betraying none of her inner disarray.

A chuckle, deeper and far more menacing than the voice, rumbled from somewhere above her.

Seras dared a glance up at the voice and nearly gasped aloud when she did. Her gaze was met by a tall, slender man who held a red duster over one arm and a crimson, wide-brimmed fedora in the other. He wore a casual suit with a loose tie that matched the blood red color of his hat and coat. His slacks were tight fitting and straddled the line between revealing too much and not revealing enough- strange as it was. Long ebony bangs hung around his face, only further accenting his sharp cheekbones. Her eyes ran along his sculpted face before settling on his orange rimmed glances that obscured her view of his eyes. The stranger's hidden gaze magnified the sense of mystery that seemed to roll off of the man in near tangible waves. He had an air of foreign beauty that stuck her as almost… almost… _unnatural._

Seras felt herself lean towards where the man stood at the end of her booth while her mind roared in protest. _No,_ she thought, halting her advance. _You don't know this man, stay weary._

As if sensing that Seras was not going to come any closer to him, the man slid into the uninhabited side of the booth that Simone and Tommy had vacated no less than an hour ago. The man's very presence was intimidating and seemed to belittle everything around him. He laid his coat across his thighs and placed the hat atop of the table. The rim brushed against Seras' fingers that were still clamped to the book which had piqued the stranger's interest.

Seras retracted her arms in to herself- not without the notice of a grin on the strange man's face. She leant into the booth's wooden back, trying to distance herself from the man across from her. It briefly crossed her mind that the man's long legs had no room to breathe beneath the table.

"It interests you?" His question drew her attention to him once again. His head was cocked slightly and the tips of gloved fingers hovered near the edge of the tabletop.

"Yes," Seras said slowly, taking in all there was to the man. What about him made her so damn uneasy? Sure, he was rather intimidating and imposing. But, for Hell's sake, so were half the men at the Metropolitan Police!

"So," the man began, obviously not pleased with her short and simple answer. "What about night creatures appeals to you? Or, perhaps, is it merely a passing fancy inspired by the upcoming holiday?"

Seras pursed her lips before answering, "No, not really. It's more for personal enjoyment." And that wasn't a lie. Even though Seras was reading the book as a sort of reconnaissance for when she inevitably weaseled her way into the occult club, Seras had found herself trapped within the compelling, realistic- albeit distorted- world that the author had spun. It was written in the view of the protagonist who was merely recording his daily life within the realm of the fantastical and otherworldly. He was a human, yes. But he constantly conspired with _other_ beings. The man's personal familiar was a wrathful, savage, and cruel beast who dined on the blood or poor, virgin women. It was said that his name was-

"Personal enjoyment?" he mused, a wicked smirk taking the place of his grin as he leaned over the table. Seras had a feeling the man always wore a bemused expression; it only strengthened the dark mystery which seemed to hang around him.

"That's usually why one reads a book," she noted sardonically, drawing the book closer to her.

The man stared at her for a moment, his expression devoid of any emotion. The only thing that rested on his features was his grin, but she felt as if that was just a staple of his appearance- that it meant nothing at all. Slowly, his smile began to stretch from ear to ear and Seras caught a brief sight of pristinely white teeth that rivaled the man's skin in their pale whiteness.

"Yes, it does appear that way. Now, let me reword my question: what about the book interests you?"

"The hypocrisy," she said. Seras gloated internally when the man's smug smile slipped into something akin to shock and puzzlement. The look only lasted a second before his grin was back in place.

"What hypocrisy?" he asked, settling against the back of his side of the booth, mimicking her pose.

"Well, as you seem to know, the book is written in the point of view of the same Abraham Van Hellsing from Bram Stoker. You know, _Dracula_. The man is religious, yet he consorts with demons. Seems a little anti-productive…" she trailed off, looking down at the book that still lay open before her. She stroked the yellowed pages, contemplating something for a moment. "And you'd think that a religious man wouldn't be so cruel. He's an ass really. He's walking around with all these demons- monsters, he calls them- and the only way he portrays them is as if they have no morals…"

"But, if the creatures within his fables are truly monsters, wouldn't that mean that they have already abandoned all morals?" Seras glanced up at the stranger and felt a chill run down her spine as a smile, thin and maniacal, slithered its way onto his features.

"The definition of a monster varies, but I believe a monster is something that abandons hope and fear alike. Something that loses sight of its goals and aspirations. Not all monsters are creatures that go bump in the night," Seras' tone turned grave and she met the stranger's hidden gaze full on, believing every word she said. "Some are human. In fact, most are." In her mind's eye, Seras saw a flash of a pink sweater and an eternal, silent shriek. "To be a monster is to abandon humanity, and humanity is so much more than just morals. Humanity is not about playing God and ending others' lives prematurely. Humanity is not about needless bloodshed fueled by man's greed. No, not at all. Humanity is about finding guilt and remorse for the past. Humanity is about finding joy within one's self and not within earthly sins. Humanity is about _feeling_. Love and hate; envy and joy; hope and sorrow. Humanity is about bearing the pain of being alive."

The man's sly, sure smile slipped into one of momentary shock and awe that was swiftly replaced with a simple, yet unsettling grin. Through her little speech, both the nameless man and Seras had leant further over the table, drawing closer in one another in an unconscious attempt at blocking out the noisy world around them. A woman, the snarky waitress from before, plopped down a plate of greasy, fried chips between the two with a flick of her wrist.

Seras immediately pushed against the back of the booth once again, dropping her gaze to the book while the man's brows –from what could be seen over the top of his orange-rimmed glasses and between the silky, ebony locks- knitted together as he glared at the woman who dared interrupt their conversation. The waitress didn't seem to catch wind of his annoyance, most likely due to her being a seasoned veteran of the food industry, and simply casted a judgment-filled look between the young woman and the strange man before losing herself within the crowd once again.

Seras shifted in the booth, her fingers dancing atop the book's pages. The man turned his attention back to Seras, the grin back in its fixed place.

"Hm." The man cocked his head to the side as if listening for something. He righted his head and trained his sight on a woman who had just entered the Old Duke. The woman was a modern day Valkyrie; glorious, beautiful, and had strength that radiated from her. Long blond hair spilled over her shoulders and down the back of her slim fitting suit that was loosely covered by a dull, shapeless coat. The woman's glasses reflected the light, causing her already powerful aura to appear menacing.

"Who is that?" Seras asked before she thought better of it.

Her question was greeted by a mere chuckle that sent shivers running up and down her spine. She looked over towards the man only to find him standing at the end of the table, coat and hat in hand. How had he gotten up without her noticing? How long did she look away- one, two seconds? How had he gotten out so swiftly and soundlessly?

Beneath the dim lights of the pub, shadows were casted up the stranger's face, accenting his sharp cheekbones and… what was that? When the man had just smiled, a flash of _something_ had shown. Something pearly white and sharp. Seras was dragged out of her fixation when the man bowed with a dip of his head. When he straightened, his smile, both enigmatic and maniacal, was plastered to his face.

"I am afraid I must bid you farewell. The night is still young and I have much to do." His tone was ominous and seemed to allude to something besides a normal man's business. He gave the young woman seated beneath him one more look-over before turning on his heels, starting off towards the pub's exit.

Seras had begun to bid the man a good night when realization dawned on her. "Wait!" The man did not cease his exit. "Wait, sir! Hey! I don't know your name!"

The man had parted the sea of pub goers as easily as Moses did to the Red Sea. He had stridden up to the heavenly warrior of a woman before throwing a wicked glance over his shoulder at Seras. Though he was across the pub from her and tens upon tens of people stood between them and the jazz ensemble's music roared, his deep, resounding voice reached her as clear as if the man had whispered it into the shell of her ear.

 _"Alucard."_

* * *

 _AN: Hello there! Ahhh! That you to everyone who has reviewed! The reviews honestly, truly motivate me to write- hence this update coming so 'quickly'. I actually had wanted to post this chapter and the next chapter on Halloween, but oops. Oh, and the reason why this chapter is mostly dialogue is because I wanted to split up this MEGA chapter into two parts so it'd flow a bit better (and not be so damn long). Yes, yes! I plan to make each chapter longer and longer! I hope you are all into that sort of a thing. *Cheeky smile*_


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